


The Road Less Traveled By

by huntertomyangel (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Dean Winchester, Coffee Shops, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Poet Castiel, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/huntertomyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old house in the middle of a foggy wood. A chocolate lab curled up near the fireplace. Piles of leather journals and crumpled papers on a desk. Two pairs of shoes sprawled near the front door. Their owners wrapped in each other's arms, forgetting the rest of the world. A barista and a poet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “A poem begins in delight and ends with wisdom.” - Robert Frost

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating chapters every Saturday if this fic goes well :)
> 
> A little slow beginning, but it is meant to be an intro to the fic, please stick around for more if you like it!

His house was far from the town and even farther from the city, it was in the middle of the forest, right next to a river that Castiel would never dare to swim in. He didn’t necessarily hate people, he just preferred to be by himself. He enjoyed the fact that a winding road surrounded by thick trees separated between him and society. Castiel’s name was fairly well-known in his town, there was only around 600 people living there and being a semi-popular author brought unwanted attention. He only went into town when it was necessary and he just preferred to stay at home. He drank his coffee pitch black and was in a constant state of sleep-deprived somber. Castiel always found that his best poems were written on a whim. Truly inspiring poetry can’t be forced out, it needs to flow through the ink onto the page on it’s own accord and at it’s own pace. Sometimes, it would take Cas a week to write a five sentence poem. He was definitely no stranger to writer’s block, but found it easy to get rid of by exploring.

He would leave his home with his ratty bookbag, which he took with him everywhere. It perfectly fit his journal, camera and his copy of The Poetry of Robert Frost. The pages were worn and ripped after years of use, but Cas refused to get a new copy. He would explore the old town he lived in, finding a new place or revisiting places where he had experienced extraordinary inspiration. He would venture out into the abandoned parts of the town, writing in dusty hallways and crumbling staircases, surrounded by the ghosts of past residences. Cas always thought that spirits of the homes gave him their stories to show the world. His first book was composed of poems based on past lives from abandoned homes. One of his favorites was A Different Kind of Brush.

_To say life is short is no mistake_

_By which we all will see_

_Some may die, old and gray_

_Others in a blast of golden light_

_Most won’t see what I have seen_

_The moment before I drew my last breath_

_My blood now paints my bedroom wall_

_A shotgun as the brush_

It was a bit morbid. Well, a lot morbid, but it was one of his most popular poems. The house belonged to an abusive drunk and his punching-bag wife. She was cooped up in the house all the time, too afraid to leave because she might get another beating. She dealt with his tirades for years before she actually told someone. Cas was just a child when this happened. The police confronted the husband at work but he managed to give them the slip. He went home and shot her in cold blood and he was soon arrested. Cas actually wanted to make the poem longer and interview the man, but he couldn’t exactly interview a tombstone. 

Most of Castiel’s poems weren’t as… well, bloody, as this poem was. When he would sit in abandoned buildings, he could pull stories out of anything. A hideous patterned and tattered rug was an inherited gift that Gracie Jackson’s husband hated but got brownie points for dealing with it.  An old bike with a missing pedal and bent handlebars was from Michael’s first bike ride without the training wheels. Guess Dad let go a bit too soon. The slightly eerie feeling his readers got whilst reading his poems was one of the main reasons why he was published to begin with. His publisher enjoyed the uniqueness of Castiel’s poems, since they weren’t all sappy, crappy love poems about unrequited love. Cas was currently working on his third book. The first was strictly poems from the abandoned homes, the second was set toward public settings. This one, he was going to try and direct them toward people.

Today, Cas wanted to go out to the park. He enjoyed nature, it gave him new sorts of inspirations all the time. There was a walking path he’d go to and despite what Frost’s most famous poem says to do, Cas always went down the more well traveled path. The harder path wound up into the mountains and knowing his sense of direction was poor, Cas would more than likely get lost. It was getting chilly, despite it only being September. Cas pulled on his big trenchcoat and wrapped a bright blue scarf before heading out. He left with his bookbag and drove down to the hiking path. It wasn’t a hard hike or anything, it was basically a walking path through the park that lead to the forest and a really pretty lake. He’d sit under the giant old oak tree and write sonnets and poems about the trees and the lake and the animals. It was a bit hippie-ish, but he didn’t care.

He parked his car on the dirt road and tightened his scarf a bit before he walked up the path made of broken cement and stone. He walked until the path hit a fork with two signs, one pointing to the look out point of the lake and the other leading deeper into the woods. As always, Cas went down the usual path. He walked until he found the lake and sat down under the oak tree. Even though he should be people watching at the local coffee shop, it just felt right to come to the park. He pulled out his notebook and fountain pen, flipping to a clean page. It took him an hour before he was able to write a solid poem. 

_There’s something that can be said_

_About the crisp quietness_

_Of a morning forest_

_Even with the birds chirping_

_And leaves rustling_

_You can still feel at peace_

_With the acclaimed ‘silence’_

_It’s when the noise stops_

_And your own thoughts are louder_

_Than the non-existent birds_

_And the burnt, dead leaves_

_Is when it starts to get_

_Terrifying_

Cas put his journal and pen down onto the dewy grass and stared out to the lake. He really did enjoy the not-so-quiet silence of the forest. There was no loud honking or people talking, just the birds doing their business, chattering amongst themselves. It didn’t sound like talking to Cas. He leaned back against the old oak, watching the rising sun start to reflect off the clear lake. He barely noticed the man jogging past, but the man noticed him. Cas probably looked strange. Sitting out in the middle of fall on a grassy hill, wearing slacks and a large trenchcoat and a scarf. The man himself was dressed to exercise, dawning some gray sweatpants and a green hoodie. He tugged one earbud out from his ear as he caught his breath, staring quizzically at the man. 

“Hey! You alright?” He called out, drawing Cas out from his daydream. Cas blinked curiously, looking at the man as an alien. He had a stubbly beard and dirty blond hair that was mostly hidden under the hood, with the excuse of a few tufts poking out the front. 

“Yes.” Cas said simply, why wouldn’t he be? The mystery man raised his brow and shrugged, putting the earbud back in and went on running. It was a small town. Cas has seen the man before, most recently at a the newest coffee shop Cas frequented. He was a barista, the only one who seemed to know how to pour a decent cup of coffee. He let his hand fall from his bent knee, letting his fingers brush over the soft leather bound book before he picked it up and tucked it into his book bag. He carefully stood up, brushing off his coat before he cautiously walked down the slippery hill and he walked back to his car. 

He made himself a sensible breakfast of eggs and toast before he wrote more. He couldn’t stop himself from writing. Whenever he did write, it was as if they just flew out from the tip of his pen on their own and Castiel would just blank out and let them do their work. This time, he still had the picture of the jogging man in his head.

_Bristles of hair decorated_

_His jawline_

_A flawless profile_

_A living, marble bust_

_He was an aristocrat_

_A gentleman hidden_

_In clothing two sizes_

_Too big_

_Oh how I wish_

_I got a better look at his soul_  

His pen fell from his grip and clattered to the floor when Cas re-read what he wrote. A blush that he hasn’t seen since puberty rose to his cheeks. If he didn’t love his journal as much as he did, he would’ve ripped out the page and burned it. How on earth did he manage to comprise a poem on a man who he saw for a total of 8.7 seconds? And a good poem nonetheless. He closed his journal with disbelief and picked up his pen. Dammit… He felt like a lame teenager again with a schoolboy crush. But then again, Cas didn’t really know much about that. He’s never been in a relationship before. He certainly knew he wasn’t asexual, he just hasn’t met anyone whom he’s had romantic or sexual interests toward. He’s never written any romance poems, he didn’t think a relationship-less virgin had the right to write such things. 

Cas took a cold shower and despite it being out of his rhythm, he refused to go to the coffee shop of where he knew the mysteriously hot jogger worked. That would just be encouraging him to write even more about him. Castiel was a firm nonbeliever in love at first sight. It wasn’t love, it was lust. You cannot fall in love with someone just based on their looks, you simply just find them attractive. Granted, it has been proven that good looks are a key factor in attraction, Castiel refused to let him fall for it. He made himself a crappy cup of instant coffee and worked for 5 hours, trying to force himself to write about anything, anything besides the man. 

_There is a saying that goes_

_‘Freckles are angel kisses’_

_And how I wish_

_I was the angel who laid_

_His lips upon your golden skin_

Cas was smart enough to write on a notepad instead of his leather journal. It didn’t take much for his trash can to be filled with crumpled-up pieces of paper. He only kept two that he wrote, the very first one and the second one that he wrote because he enjoyed the freckles on his cheeks. Cas shoved his rolling chair away from his desk with disgust. He wasn’t usually this romantic ball of mush when it came to his poetry. He hated it. It was easiest to call this a block and to stop writing for the day. He watched horrible day-time television, he ran on his treadmill and he went a little overboard with the baking and ended up with four pies. He had to go to the neighbors and give them a pie and they gratefully accepted them. It wasn’t unusual for them to receive some sort of baked good from their recluse poetic neighbor. Before his work as a poet, he went to culinary school to become a baker. When he discovered he enjoyed poetry more so than baking, he gave up the idea and pursued a creative writing degree. He paid his way through school with his baking skills and as soon as he could, he became a full time poet. He was lucky to get published, otherwise his parents would be chewing his ear off with their ‘I told you so’ speech.

He was a bit of a town celebrity, but it wasn’t something he enjoyed. Writing is for introverts, for people who want to tell you a story but not actually speak it. And after spending four years of his life reading famous poetry and classic novellas, he found that he prefered the company of books than people. A major factor is the strange look people get when they spoke to him. He spoke as if he was writing, which was strange to read, nonetheless hear out loud. That alone, with his inherently shy nature made his town-wide fame difficult to handle. Any effort to make contact with his newfound crush would just be that much more difficult for Cas. And made the whole ordeal more infuriating.

_My brain is stained_

_With the stamp of your eyes_

_So vividly green_

_It blinds the ungrateful_

_The mark makes me hazy_

_Everything is cloudy_

_And difficult to read_

_But who is to say_

_I do not wish for it to stay_


	2. "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." - T.S. Eliot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A caramel cappuccino. A chance meeting. A forgotten scarf. And growing hope for something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter :) still a little slow, but as of today, the story has nearly 12000 words... so stayed tune!

 

It took a week before Cas found his feet being magnetically drawn to the coffee shop. After dozens of trashcans filled with crumpled papers and listening to dopey love songs, he was driving himself insane and he figured one visit wouldn’t hurt. There was a nip in the air as he walked, his nose was as red as his lips and cheeks were. Winter was coming. He turned the corner and gladly entered the warmth of the coffee shop. Considering it was a Tuesday and just after 10 in the morning, the shop was slow. There was an elderly couple drinking their coffee in the corner and a young girl, who was obviously skipping school, was sipping cocoa while eating a bagel. Cas removed his scarf and tucked it away into his bag before going to the counter. The barista was sadly not his freckled jogger, but the perky brunette made it easier for him to order his cappuccino. He sat down in the far corner seat near the window. People-watching inspired him. He pulled out his journal and pen, tapping it curiously against his chin. There was a little boy sitting on the corner of the street, crying. There was no one else around. No one stopped to help him.

_Mommy_

_Where did you go?_

_Was I a bad boy?_

_I didn’t mean to be_

_Mommy_

_Please come find me_

_I don’t want to be alone_

_It’s cold out here_

_Mommy_

_Mommy_

_Mommy!_

Cas smiled to himself when he saw a woman rush up to the little boy and scooped him up into her arms. He was probably lost. He was happy with this one, it was the first poem in the past week that he managed to write that wasn’t about his jogger. The sudden clatter of a plate caused him to jolt, eyes wide when he turned around to the noise. It was his plate for his cup. The plate had a hand on it, the hand led up to an arm, then to a torso, then to a neck, then to a face. A freckled face. Castiel’s ears got hot as he stared up at the mysterious jogger-barista, looking as frightened as the little boy.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologized with a kind smile, which didn’t help his thumping heart. Cas nibbled on his bottom lip and shook his head.

“D-Don’t, it’s quite alright. I was… day-dreaming.” Castiel smiled weakly, glancing back out the window. The little boy and his mother were gone, walking down the street hand in hand. He looked back to take a sip from his coffee and was once again startled when he saw the man looking at his journal. His name tag read ‘Dean’. The fact that Cas could read his name tag meant he was far too close. Castiel could pick up notes of musk, wood and citrus underneath the overwhelming smell of coffee that coated his clothing.

“Wow… did you write this?” Dean asked softly, reading over his shoulder. Cas blushed, bowing his head down so he wouldn’t look at those bright eyes. He slowly closed his book with an awkward cough, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean immediately stood up straight with wide eyes of guilt, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to pry…” He apologized and started to walked off and Cas inwardly kicked himself.

“W-Wait… it’s okay.” He called out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “I just… um… well, I don’t usually allow people to read my poetry before it’s published…” He admitted, opening his book back up. “You can read it… if you want?” He offered and he held his breath when Dean came back. His hands were shaking as he grabbed his cup and took a sip. The concentration that Dean had while he read was slightly concerning, what if he found it creepy? Or bad? Oh dear God.

“... Is this… about you?” He asked softly, looking back at Cas. Castiel quickly shook his head, putting the mug back down. He pointed out the window as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“There was a… little boy, he was sobbing, looked lost… But his mom came back as I finished the poem…” He shrugged until he realized how that sounded. He probably sounded like a creepy pedophile, oh God… “I-I take inspiration from people… like… I w-write out what I think of their lives… just… creative… inspiration?” He squeaked, feeling his blush crawl to his cheeks. Dean couldn’t help but laugh and nodded his head.

“Nah, man, it’s cool, it’s really good. You said you’re published?” He asked, holding the serving tray against his chest.Cas’ eyes were immediately drawn to his exposed forearms and the veins that were popping out. With his arms folded like that, you could see his biceps just gently push out against his shirt and the muscular definition on his exposed forearms. Shit. Castiel nodded and forced his eyes away and back up to his face, which wasn’t any better.

“Y-Yeah… I’m… Castiel? Novak?” He hated that everyone knew his name. Whenever people hear that he’s a published poet, they always think he shows it off when it was the complete opposite. He missed the days of when he was unpublished and unknown, just another face in the crowd. “I have a couple poetry books out…” He shrugged, nervously taking another sip so he wouldn’t have to stare at those ridiculously green eyes. He almost heard the light bulb go off in Dean’s head.

“Oh! You’re the guy! The one that writes about abandoned buildings and shit.” Dean grinned, nodding. He’s seen a couple poems. Cas gave a half smile and nodded, setting his cup back down as he closed his book. “Dude, you’re like… famous around here. I’ve only been here for about 5 months and I’ve heard your name from practically everyone.” Dean chuckled, drumming his fingers against the metal tray. Cas let out a soft sigh and shrugged. “Yeah, well… when you come from a small town like Elysia and you do something… unique, word spreads fast.” It was getting tiresome, hearing praises about how great he was. He wasn’t all that great… there were much better poets out there.

“Oi! Winchester, I’ve got three orders up here!” A gruff man called from behind the counter, the ever-permanent scowl on his face. Dean rolled his eyes before looking back at Castiel. “Sorry, I gotta go, thanks for letting me read your stuff... It was really good. Talk to you later.” He smiled and Cas swore he saw the light gleam off his teeth. Fuck, was there anything unattractive about this guy? Cas weakly smiled back and nodded, watching him walk away. Nice ass too…  fuck. Cas tore his gaze away and forced himself to guzzle down the coffee as fast as he could so he could leave. He would’ve if it didn’t burn his throat half way through… Cas sighed heavily and rested his cheek on one fist, tapping the journal with his pen. Dammit… With a frustrated grunt, Cas flipped it open and started to write again.

_Steamed milk_

_Light roast_

_A musky aroma_

_Creamy sweet latte_

_With a warmth that pulses_

_From your heart to your toes_

_What I would give_

_To take a sip from you_

Cas stayed for three hours. He practically sunk into the soft armchair, either feverishly writing or staring at the barista. Dean was so friendly. He greeted everyone with a bright smile and a heartwarming tone, it would’ve brightened anyone’s day. During hour two, a little girl spilled her hot chocolate and started to cry. Dean kneeled down next to her and hushed her, wiping up the mess and her tears. He even gave her a free refill and a doughnut of her choosing. The mother couldn’t express her gratitude more. Castiel wasn’t surprised when Dean didn’t talk to him after that. He was working after all… no time for a socially-inept poet. Once his legs started to grow numb and his energy started to fade, Cas shoved his journal back into his book bag and stood. He returned his mug to the bar and Dean took it from him with the brightest smile Cas has ever seen.

“Did you like it?” Dean chuckled, he seemed to be genuinely interested. Cas only ever drank black coffee in his own home, but in coffee shops, he tended to order something slightly sweeter. His preferred is a simple caramel cappuccino. “Yeah… Charlie usually makes my drink, but you did well.” He felt Dean’s smile turn up a couple hundred watts when he heard the slight compliment. “Thanks, I tried my best.” Cas couldn’t help but retain Dean’s infectious smile as he turned. “I’m sure you wouldn’t do anything less, it was nice meeting you...”

“You too, Cas!” Cas flinched slightly when he called him by his nickname… that was… certainly unexpected. Hardly anyone called him Cas… they thought it was too simple for a ‘great poet’ to be called. He missed hearing it. His cheeks were flushed as he glanced over his shoulder and saw Dean waving. Cas gave a shy wave back before heading out the door, his heart pumping in his ears. The thumping was so loud, it blocked out his own thoughts. Even the thought of how cold his neck was.

A furry, slobbering being greeted Castiel when he got home, barking as she tried to jump up to lick her master’s face. The poet couldn’t help but smile and push his playful dog off as he locked the door behind him. “Alright, alright, Dulce, I’m back…” He smiled as he knelt down  to pet her. “Were you a good girl?” Her tail was wagging so hard, it would’ve fallen off if Cas’ life was a lame cartoon. It might as well been, considering the funny feeling in his chest when he remembered how brightly Dean smiled. Cas sighed heavily and stripped off his coat and hung it on the rack before wandering into his living room. His bag was discarded on the small table near the armchair next to the window. He collapsed onto his old, lumpy couch and Dulce joined him, crawling into the small space near her master’s feet and curled up into a ball.

Castiel didn’t recall falling asleep, perhaps it was the extra warmth from Dulce’s body that did it. He woke up with a groan, blurrily glancing at the clock. It was 10 already? He groggily climbed off the couch, waking his fluffy pet up briefly before she fell back asleep with a soft snore. Cas turned on a small desk lamp and sat down next to the window. It was raining… He tucked his feet up under himself before grabbing for his bag. His journal was fished out and it didn’t take long for him to start scribbling down words. By the time he was finished, he was half-asleep and the words were scribbled lines going off the page. He flipped his journal shut and dragged his weary body off to his proper bed.

_Tears fall from the Heavens_

_Blessing our soil_

_Attempting to undo_

_The damage we’ve done_

_For how long_

_Should the angels weep_

_Til the stains of humanity_

_Are removed?_

The next morning was utter hell. Cas had a meeting with his publisher that he nearly missed due to his failure of an alarm. He didn’t have time to get coffee or even dress properly, he ended up throwing on a wrinkled white button up and some dirty slacks. He nearly missed the bus into downtown and when he got to his publisher’s office, Cas was informed that Gabriel was out sick with strep throat. So he rushed for nothing, basically. He returned home grumpy and annoyed, even Dulce could sense it and she stayed hidden in the backyard and Cas into his bedroom. He kicked off his pants and crawled into bed with his ancient laptop. He hardly used it, unless he needed to check emails or write up his poetry onto a document. He clicked on his web browser and logged into his email, about to write a very angry email to Gabriel when he saw he had a new message from someone. He didn’t recognize the address, dwinchester.

To: [poemsoverpeople@gmail.com](mailto:poemsoverpeople@gmail.com)

From: [dwinchester@aromamochacafe.com](mailto:dwinchester@aromamochacafe.com)

Castiel,

I’m sorry for accessing your email address from our computer system, but I wanted to reach you. You left your blue scarf behind when you left the other day. I have it in my locker as I didn’t want anyone to steal it, I hope you don’t mind. Feel free to stop by either today or tomorrow, from 11 am to 6 pm, that’s when I work.

See you later,

Dean

P.S Nice email address :)

Castiel had his mouth open for a good minute as he re-read the email. It didn’t occur to him when he signed up for the rewards card at the shop, they’d have access to his email address. He remembered every detail of their conversation that day, yet had no recollection of his attire. He couldn’t even remember forgetting his scarf… he did notice it’s disappearance however. Cas glanced at the clock perched on his bedside table, 4:37 pm. He did have time to go retrieve his scarf… but lacked the strength to go outside again. The situation with Gabriel drained him. He’ll go tomorrow… He shut his laptop and slid it back onto the side table. He opened the drawer and retrieved a smaller notebook and pen. There were notebooks littered across the house, poet’s bad habit. He flipped to a blank page and quickly started to write, before the feelings were taken over by weariness.

_A soft, knitted scarf_

_Ought to mean nothing_

_But to keep warm from the coldness of the world_

_Yet_

_It cannot compare to the radiating heat_

_In my chest, when I read your words_

_With you near me_

_I need not that scarf again_

 


	3. “And we down the golden treasure, which is known as lemon pie” - Edgar Albert Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of the scarf, an unexpected invitation, and soggy french fries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter and I uploaded it a day late! I was out with friends last night <3

He awoke to the soft noise of his ringtone. Castiel, grumpily, slapped his hand onto his nightstand until he found his phone. He slid his thumb to answer the call and placed the phone to his ear.

“What?” He grunted, eyes still screwed shut, still trying to regain his unconscious state. “Why is it that I’m the one with strep throat, yet you sound worse than I do?” A grisly voice that sounded a lot like the equally sarcastic and narcissistic voice of his publisher. “Go away, Gabriel, I’m still peeved with you.” Cas muttered yet still kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Hey, no going back to sleep! It’s nearly 5:30! You cannot waste the day away when your next deadline is so close!” 5:30? Cas’ eyes flew open and he quickly looked at the clock, 5:19. “Shit!” Castiel quickly hung up the phone and jumped out of bed, ignoring the brief protest he heard from Gabe before the line went dead.

It took Castiel 7 minutes to get properly dressed and it took him 16 minutes to speed down to the coffee shop. By the time he got to the door, Cas was breathless and disheveled, both things he preferred not to be in public, nonetheless when he’s about to meet with the cutest barista in town. Cas scanned the coffee shop and it was practically empty, no customers and the only worker he saw was Charlie, the girl whom normally made his coffee. She was mopping the floor.

“Castiel! Good to see you again, want a cappuccino?” Charlie smiled as she greeted him, wheeling the mop behind the counter. Cas ran his hand through his messy hair, trying to comb it down as much as he could. “U-Uh, no thanks. I… um…” Cas stuttered, it was Friday right? It wasn’t 6 yet, that was when the shop closed… He raised his head when he heard the back door open and felt a blush rise almost instantaneously when he saw a dirty blonde head.

“Cas! You made it.” Dean smiled, wiping his hands on his apron. His sleeves were rolled up, water droplets rolling down his arms. Washing dishes. Cas gave a weary smile and nodded, unable to form words. Charlie frowned slightly and looked between the two. “You two know each other?” She asked, Cas barely remembered that she was there. Castiel looked back at Charlie then to Dean, licking over his lips nervously.

“Yeah, I uh, met the famous poet when I took over your shift when you were sick.” Dean chuckled, his lips turned into a crooked grin as he looked back at Cas. That smile could make any gray clouds run away. Charlie raised her brow when she saw sheepish look on Castiel’s face, she was surprised to see such emotion in his face. The writer was quite impassive. “Uh huh… Did you finish the dishes? I wanna head out early, we probably aren’t gonna get any other customers tonight.” Charlie asked Dean who nodded but didn’t met her eye contact, he continued to look at Castiel. It made him feel fidgety, self conscious even. He still felt like a mess, his hair was still all over the place, his outfit was nothing special, just a jean button up and brown pants.

“Great, I’m gonna head out, lock up will you?” Charlie removed her apron and tossed Dean her keys. She went through the back door and returned with her purse, “See ya later boys” she chirped before heading out the front door, leaving them both in a slightly awkward silence. Dean’s chuckle cut through the silence, shaking his head. “Been working here 4 months and I can already tell she’s a tornado.” He smirked, removing his own apron. Cas smiled slightly and nodded. “Been coming here for two years… she’s always the one smiling and singing songs. Never saw her without a smile on her face.” Cas couldn’t help but observe how fluidly Dean moved. Even just taking off his apron was breathtaking.

“Sorry, you want your scarf, I’ll be right back.” Dean smiled and went into the back. When he returned, Cas was staring out a window. An elderly couple was walking down the sidewalk, the woman was pulling seeds out of her bag and threw them on the sidewalk. A small group of birds followed them, pecking at the seeds until their bellies were full and other hungry birds replaced them. It was quite interesting to watch… Dean leaned over his shoulder and watched with him. “I know them. They walk past at this time every day.” Cas nearly jumped when Dean’s voice was so close to his ear. His heart was racing and his eyes were wide when he turned around.

“Sorry, sorry, forgot you were a little jumpy.” Dean chuckled, holding up Cas’ scarf to him. Cas smiled shyly and nodded, taking the scarf from him. He caught whiffs of laundry detergent, but it wasn’t his own. “Uh, I noticed it not shortly after you left. We got busy afterwards, so I just quickly put it on the side. My coworker spilled some coffee on it so I took it home to wash, hope you don’t mind.” Dean smiled, shifting his backpack to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. He nodded his head to the door and they both walked out of the shop.

“T-Thank you… for washing it… you didn’t have to…” Cas mumbled as Dean locked the door. “Of course I did. I wasn’t gonna just let it stain and stink of coffee.” Dean smirked, tucking the keys away into his pocket. Cas watched as Dean breathed out a small cloud of smoke, was it getting that cold already? Dean glanced at Cas and smirked slightly. “Wanna go grab a bite to eat? I didn’t get a chance to go on my lunch break.” Cas’ brow raised curiously, more so in shock. “Y-You… want to get dinner w-with me?”

Dean grinned again and shrugged. “You’re interesting to talk to… plus I have a couple questions to ask you about your writing.” Dean spoke so simply, like it was normal to ask a stranger out to dinner. They met twice… Cas wasn’t even sure if Dean remembered the first time. Dean pat Castiel’s back and nodded his head down the street. “C’mon, there’s a good diner a block away. They make some damn good pie.” Honestly, Castiel was starving. His bout with the Gabriel situation had him so frustrated that he slept for over 24 hours. It wasn’t uncommon with his anxiety.

After two double cheeseburgers and fries split between the two, Castiel found himself more comfortable and less stuttery around Dean. He was still stunned by his amazing good looks and incredible charm, but perhaps it was sensory adaptation. Castiel swirled a french fry in some ketchup before he popped it into his mouth. “So… what questions did you have about my poems?” Cas asked, watching Dean sip from his soda. The look of his lips wet certainly was appealing.

“Well… call me lame, but, I picked up one of your books to read…” Dean unzipped his backpack and pulled out a copy of his first book, Memories of the Forgotten. “And, well, I was curious about the inspiration. You wrote in the introduction that all the poems were based off of fiction you created in your head, based on abandoned sites you visited.” Cas took the book from Dean and flipped through the pages. He never actually owned any of his books. “Well… when authors write stories, they usually start off with describing one of two things… the setting or the main character. Most choose the later. A place can tell a story, even if it’s old and worn. I find that those usually have the best stories behind them.”

Dean looked at him as if he was studying him, slowly processing his words. “Why poetry then? Why not write short stories or a novel?” Dean asked, tossing back two fries at once. Cas had to think about this one more… he knew the answer, but had to think on how to word it properly. “Well… poems are deeper. And more open to the reader. It leaves them the option to explore their own creativity, to give them the chance to interpret my words to their own liking.” Dean smiled slightly and nodded. Cas flipped to a certain page, one of his first poems. “What do you think the story is behind this one?”

_Old and worn_

_Smudged with dirt and grime_

_Out of place_

_Amongst the trees and the leaves_

_Does no one understand_

_The power of Her_

_She will eventually_

_Overtake us all with her power_

_Her beauty_

_Her grace_

Dean read over the poem at least three times. His brow furrowed and his nose crinkled a few times. Dean sighed and set the book down on the table. “Well… You’re obviously writing about the woods… Maybe… an abandoned house? ‘Her’... Mother Nature?” Dean huffed, he was obviously just giving his best guess. Cas raised his brow and nodded, dipping another fry in the ketchup. “Pretty good… I live at pretty much the edge of town, when it cuts off to just forest. I’ll go out there and camp, explore the area… there’s an abandoned shack… covered, I mean, covered in vines and leaves. There’s a tree growing out the wooden floor and through the roof. It was in shambles, but not because it was abandoned. Nature took it over, reclaiming the wood that humans had… killed. It’s really… quite beautiful.” Cas smiled slightly, drumming his fingers on the table.

Dean smiled with Castiel just as the waitress came by. “How’re you two doing? Time for dessert?” She gathered their plates and Dean ordered a slice of lemon meringue pie. He insisted Cas take a few bites and the pie lived up to the hype Dean gave it. Sweet and tangy. “Okay… another question about your writing. Do you only write about places? Or do you write about people too?” Cas’ mind immediately flashed to the dozens of poems he wrote about the man who was sitting across from him. “W-Well… no, I mean, I wrote a-about that little boy… remember? When you gave me my drink.”

He shoveled a few more bites from his bite before nodding, “Yeah, that’s right.” Dean mumbled behind a mouthful of meringue. “And in your other book, you wrote about people too…  I was trying to come up with something to talk about.” Dean admitted with a chuckle and Cas smiled slightly. Cas picked up his fork and stole another bite of pie. “Don’t eat all of it… I want some too…” Cas teased, “You read my other book too?”

“Yeah… after I found out who you were, I went to the bookstore and bought the second one… your writing is amazing.” Cas was just gaining some slight confidence until Dean had said that. He could feel himself sink down back to his shy state in a flash, he’s heard hundreds of compliments but coming from Dean… it meant much more. God, was he becoming a fool? “T-T-Thank you…” He muttered, shyly putting his fork down. Dean chuckled and ate the last of the pie, “You get shy so easily… it’s kind of cute…” Cas blushed furiously, that certainly didn’t help with anything.

Dean paid for their dinner, despite Castiel’s protests. He told him that he could pay for the next one, implying another date? Was this even a date? Oh God… Dean walked him back to his car and Cas built up some confidence to offer him a ride home, but Dean said he lived a few blocks away and rode his bike to work. After saying goodbye, Cas nearly sped back home and spent the rest of the night writing. Dulce kept him company, eventually falling asleep at his feet as he continued to write at his desk. At least half a dozen poems spilled out onto his journal, all about Dean Winchester. This was becoming a problem.


	4. "The old lost road through the woods" - Rudyard Kipling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exchanged contact, into the woods, and an invitation.

A few weeks later, Gabriel’s strep throat finally went away and they met up for his meeting. Cas drove to the publisher’s building and waited for 12 minutes in Gabe’s office. Late… as always. “Hey, Cassie! How’s my favorite poet?” Gabe burst into the room and tossed his jacket off, sitting behind his desk. “I’m your only poet, Gabriel. How’re you feeling?” Cas asked, pulling his journals out of his bookbag. Three different journals, all of them weren’t filled out completely. “Ah, fine, strep can’t keep me down for long. So, your third book, we talked about what it’ll be compiled of, right? Gonna be on nature, right? I mentioned it’s a common topic for poetry, but I have complete trust in your ability to draw your readers in and have another best seller-” Castiel cut Gabe off before he could start rambling again. “I um… actually want to change it. To people.” Cas handed Gabe his journals, the poems he wanted him to see were dog-earred.

Gabriel frowned as he took Castiel’s books and flipped through them. “People? As in, real people? You told me you hate writing about real people.” Cas sighed and shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I do… Most of these are fiction, just based off of the visual aspect of people I see. For example, in this one…” Cas reached over and flipped to the correct page, “I highly doubt this woman was truly having an affair.”

_Creeping out the back door_

_Heels in hand_

_Readjust my blouse_

_Slip back on the ring_

_Just as the phone rang_

_Walk down to the bar where_

_I know you’re waiting for me_

_Hey Honey_

“The woman I saw was walking out of the bar. She was with a couple of her friends, giggly drunk.” Cas explained as Gabe read over the poem. Gabe sighed and nodded, flipping through the journals before tossing them back to Cas. “Alright, you got me hooked. I’ll have to go over it with the board, send copies of everything to my email.” Gabe stood up and placed his bluetooth onto his ear. “I’d love to chat more, Cassie darling, but I’m a busy man and I’m two weeks behind schedule because of damn strep.” Cas gathered his things and was about to head out the door when Gabe spoke out to him again. “Also, Cassie, I love the angel kisses one.” Gabe winked and Cas blushed before quickly leaving his office.

Cas took his time driving home. His old clunker of a car couldn’t go past 50 miles an hour anyway. He hated driving, he liked to be able to smell the trees and feel the wind against his cheeks. Main reason why he left his city apartment, he wanted to be out in nature. Everytime he drove, he rolled all the windows down and didn’t even touch the radio. Just listened to the birds chirping and the occasional sputter from his engine. Castiel magically found his car rolling to a stop right outside the coffee shop. He had been back a few times after his assumed date with Dean, but everytime he went, Dean wasn’t there or he was working in the back.

He tried to comb down his consistently messy hair with his fingers as he walked into the coffee shop. He was immediately greeted by Charlie, who was working at the cash register. “Morning, Cassie!” Why was that nickname becoming a recurring thing? “One caramel cappuccino coming up.” The register keys clicked and clacked under her adorably painted nails before high ‘ding’ and a receipt popped out. He was glad he had them save his credit card information. Cas smiled and thanked Charlie before taking his normal spot in the corner by the window. He tried to look casual as he pulled out a book, occasionally peeking over the crinkled pages to find the memorable emerald eyes of his kinda-date.

Castiel knew it was ridiculous for him to seek out Dean again after their maybe-date. The way Dean talked to him sounded like flirting… well, it did in comparison to the movies that he saw. He definitely felt butterflies when Dean called him cute… He was being incredibly foolish. Dean was extremely handsome and reeked of heterosexuality, he had a mix of punk rock asshole and boy-next-door features that probably attracted girls like ants on candy. Dean hasn’t really shown any sign of being anything but straight… maybe it was a mistake to think of anything different-

Cas was startled when a cup clattered on the table next to him. “Sorry again… that’s like, the second time I’ve done that to you.” The warm chuckle that rang in Cas’ ears undoubtedly belonged to Dean. Cas looked up and saw the familiar figure hidden behind a dirty apron. He tried to play it cool as he set his book down in his lap, “L-Long time no see.” Dean smiled and nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I took up another job at a shipping company, so my hours here have been shorter.” That explains it. Cas let out a sigh of unnecessary relief and took the cup into his hand. “Busy… I can barely manage my stay-at-home job, don’t know how you can manage two.” Cas smiled as Dean chuckled, even blushing slightly at the compliment. It amazed him how comfortable Dean made him feel, so comfortable that he would even say something like that.

“Think this is the first time I’ve seen you here and you haven’t been writing. It’s a good book though.” Dean pointed out, leaning back in the chair across from Cas. They had been talking for awhile now, the shop wasn’t busy and Dean could afford to sit down and talk. “I was just coming back from town, I-I had a meeting with my editor about my newest book. I was on my way home, but I wanted some coffee and read a little.” Cas spoke behind his cup as he sipped his icy drink. He tried to be nonchalant as he looked Dean over, was it possible for someone to get more handsome over time? You could tell that Dean was getting more busy, his stubble was growing longer and his dark circles were slightly more defined. The tired, scruffy look worked for him, although Cas was sure that Dean could pull off any look. “Why don’t you read at home? It’s sure to be more comfortable than here.” Dean asked curiously, fiddling with the string tie around his apron. Cas looked out the window, trying to come up with an excuse besides the fact that he wanted to see Dean. “... Well, couldn’t turn down one of Charlie’s cappuccinos.” He smiled shyly, hearing Charlie shout a “You’re welcome!” from the back. Dean laughed and nodded, “She is pretty good, trying to learn a lot from her.”  “I’m sure you’re getting there.” Cas cooed and was instantly embarrassed by his flirtatious tone. He was relieved when Dean laughed.

“B-Besides… I live way out in the woods… it can get kind of lonely being up there by yourself…” Cas shrugged, sure Dulce was there but, she was only useful for cuddling and cheering him up whenever he’s down. Dean nodded, “Understandable. I live by myself too and it can definitely get lonely, granted I can just walk outside and be around people. I heard that all of the houses up in the forest are abandoned?” That was true, as the town migrated away from the river and became more modernized, pretty much everyone moved to the smaller town that stayed outside of the mid-suburban city that was a couple miles away. “Most of them are… I like living up there because… well… n-not a lot of people go up there. ‘m not much of a people person and… since everyone knows my name and face… i-it just makes me feel more comfortable up there…” Cas knew it sounded bad, but his social anxiety wasn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. He liked controlled loneliness, he liked having the ability to be by himself but also have the choice of going to town. When he first started to write, just after college, he would stay cooped up inside for weeks at a time, just to avoid people and keep his anxiety to a minimum. After a few necessary therapy sessions, he’s gotten much better at leaving the house every now and then.

Cas was glad that Dean nodded and understood. The bell attached just above the door jingled as more customers came in, causing Dean to stand. “It was nice talking to you again, Cas… we should grab dinner again some time. When are you free?” Dean smiled as he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt. Cas blinked slowly, processing the fact that Dean was asking him out… again. “I-uh… all the time?” He smiled guiltily, “I work from home, m-manage my own hours.” Dean laughed and nodded, “Yeah, that’s right… well, I won’t know my schedule until tonight, let me get your number and I’ll text you when I’m free?” His number…? Oh god… Cas nodded and grabbed the napkin that was under his cup, scribbling his number down with a shaky hand. “I-I’m not good at texting so… sorry if I don’t text back right away…” He admitted and Dean shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. See you later, Cas.”  

He finished his coffee and headed back home. Dulce ran up to him, barking happily at her master’s return. Cas smiled and scratched behind her ears, walking over to the worn couch. He shrugged his book bag off and pulled his journal out, slinging his legs up onto his worn sofa. Today just encouraged Castiel’s outrageous thoughts about the possibility of Dean liking him back. He wanted to go out with him again… he asked for his phone number… Cas didn’t know what to think or do. He’s never even seen a gay couple in this town, not that the town was overly religious or old-fashioned. Majority of the population was heteronormative couples and families, or graduated college students looking for a cheap place to live while they pursue a career. Regardless, he hasn’t been in a relationship before, it’s been years since he last went on a date and that was a disaster. If, and it was a big “if”, anything happened between them, Castiel would be horrified of messing it up. He would also be equally terrified of having a boyfriend so attractive.

_Is it insane_

_To wish for happiness_

_In places, where it seems_

_Impossible?_

_The uncertainty_

_Is making me deranged_

_Oh, won’t you please tell me_

_That you want me_

_Too_

After a few hours of writing and watching horrible daytime TV, Cas decided to take Dulce for a walk. He got off the couch and called for her, “Dulce! Let’s go!” She came bounding down the hall, tail whipping against the wall with a loud ‘thump’. They stepped out the door and down the stairs to the earthy path. They walked past his car and turned to the path that led deeper into the woods. Cas has had Dulce since she was a puppy, she was always so smart and knew the woods well. He didn’t have to worry about keeping her on a leash. She happily walked ahead of him, sticking her nose into different bushes and mounds of dirt. Cas stuck his hands into his coat pockets as they walked, headed toward the river. Dulce yipped happily and bolted for the water, making a large splash as she landed in the probably freezing water. Cas never understood why she loved swimming in this river, it was freezing all year round and filled with slippery rocks. He took a seat on one of the mossy rocks, smiling as he watched her bite at the water that splashed up at her feet. The happiness of dogs amazed him, she was so happy just to be outside. Just to be alive.

They stayed out until it started to get dark before heading back down to the house. Cas was able to find an interesting looking rock at the river, it was perfectly smooth and pitch black. He had a small collection of them on his mantelpiece, just a quirky habit he developed. “Dulce, c’mon, time to go back.” Cas called once they got back to the house, opening the door for her to go in. It wasn’t until he was making dinner when he heard his cell phone go off. Cas set the wooden spoon down on the counter before he went into the living room to grab his bag. He fished through the endless black hole before finally finding his phone. He had two text messages from an unknown number.

 **5:43 pm:** Hey its dean im free wed night, if u want to meet up for dinner then?

 **8:17 pm:** I really hope this is Cas lol

The first was sent while Cas was out with Dulce. He usually takes his phone with him in case of emergencies, but he completely forgot. The second was sent just now and Cas’ fingers were shaking as he typed out his reply.

 **8:18 pm:** Yes, I apologize for the late reply, I was out walking my dog and I didn’t see your message. Wednesday sounds great, what time?

He walked back into the kitchen, clutching his phone tight to his chest. He didn’t want to miss another text. He was making spaghetti, one of the few meals he could actually cook without burning. Cas was staring at his phone the entire time as he cooked, eagerly waiting for Dean’s reply. The soft ring went off as he was mixing the noodles and sauce together. He set everything down and grabbed his phone, opening the message.

 **8:23 pm:** didnt know u had a dog, what kind? and uh 7:30? i end work @ the shipping place at 7, tony’s serves some great pizza, meet u there?

Cas had to refrain himself from texting back too quickly. Wasn’t that a turn off or something? He finished mixing his dinner together and scooped himself a plate before replying.

 **8:27 pm:** Chocolate labrador, she’s a sweetheart. And that sounds fine to me, I look forward to seeing you then.

He frowned as he looked over his reply, could he sound any more gay? Cas sighed and started to eat, mumbling to himself about his own idiocy. Dulce, as if on cue, trotted into the kitchen and sat down right next to Cas, begging for a taste of his human food. Cas frowned and shook his head. “Dulce… you know better. Your food is there.” Cas said with a scolding tone, pointing to her food bowl. He practically heard her snort as she walked away from him and to her food. Such a sassy dog. His phone chimed again and he blushed as he opened the reply.

 **8:31 pm** : i love labs theyre adorable! hope to see u before then tho, i like having talks with u at the shop, makes work less awful :)

The way his heart was thumping against his ribcage could qualify as a heart condition.

Castiel was so, extremely and irrevocably, gay.


End file.
